


sweetheart, i owe you the world

by endofadream



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky's Filthy Mouth, Crossdressing Kink, Fluff, M/M, Panty Kink, Riding, Slight feminization, Top Bucky Barnes, like very slight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11946819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofadream/pseuds/endofadream
Summary: Shy, Steve peeks over his shoulder, thumbs in his belt loops, and pulls his jeans down just enough to give Bucky a peek of blue silk. Bucky swears his heart stops as that silk is revealed, pulled up high on Steve’s hips, enough to show Bucky that those aren’t just some fancy shorts.“Stevie,” he chokes out. “Those ain’t—?”There ain’t noway. All Bucky is capable of doing is staring; he’s glad life isn’t a cartoon, ‘cause his jaw sure as hell would be on the floor right now. Hearts would probably be coming out of hiseyes.





	sweetheart, i owe you the world

**Author's Note:**

> we all know this is based off of [this.](http://certifiedsinbin.tumblr.com/post/155860471386/i-saw-backless-panties-at-vs-a-while-ago-and-ive)

“Steve,” Bucky huffs, setting his book down and sitting up in their bed. “The hell is takin’ you so long?”

“Cool it,” replies Steve, voice muffled. “I said I’ll be ready when I’m ready.”

Bucky huffs again, louder to ensure that Steve can hear it from their bathroom. Fifteen minutes ago Steve had said he’d be right out. With only the promise of a surprise, Bucky doesn’t have a lot to go off of.

“Why are you surprising me anyway?” he asks, settling for tossing the book on his nightstand. He’s too keyed up now to focus on the plot anyway; it’s pointless when the words keep getting drowned out by the endless scenarios of what Steve could possibly be up to.

“‘Cause I want to?” Steve says after a minute. “If you’re so bent outta shape about it I’ll cancel any and all plans for a surprise and we can watch Netflix.”

“No way,” Bucky says, too fast, but he doesn’t care. “I’m too invested now.”

Steve’s low chuckle rumbles from behind the door. Bucky warms at that sound; he hates how little he hears it anymore, even though everything is, for once, okay. Or as okay as it can get, two fucked-up super-soldiers aside.

Bucky still has a long way to go: he _knows_. But at least he’s not jumping at the toaster anymore or sleeping with knives under his pillow. It helps that Steve is there when the nightmares come, and that Bucky is there when Steve’s come. It’s a fucked up tit-for-tat.

The doorknob clicks, turns, and Steve steps out and into their bedroom wearing nothing but low-slung jeans. He meets Bucky’s nonplussed gaze and his cheeks color delicately. “Um,” he begins. Bucky arches a brow. Blowing out a breath, Steve says, “I got you somethin’ special, baby,” and turns around.

Shy, Steve peeks over his shoulder, thumbs in his belt loops, and pulls his jeans down just enough to give Bucky a peek of blue silk. Bucky swears his heart stops as that silk is revealed, pulled up high on Steve’s hips, enough to show Bucky that those aren’t just some fancy shorts.

“Stevie,” he chokes out. “Those ain’t—?”

There ain’t no _way_. All Bucky is capable of doing is staring; he’s glad life isn’t a cartoon, ‘cause his jaw sure as hell would be on the floor right now. Hearts would probably be coming out of his _eyes_.

Steve laughs, biting his lip and slowly rocking his hips as he slides his jeans down too fucking slow for Bucky’s liking. That little tease. Steve knows damn well what he’s doing.

He turns to face the bed when the waistband is halfway down his ass, giving Bucky prime real estate for the view of his dick straining in the underwear as he works his jeans down his thighs. The blue is already dark where the head of his cock presses obscenely, tenting the waistband away from his body.

Bucky wants to drop to his knees and fit his mouth over Steve’s cock, silk and all.

As soon as Steve’s jeans are tossed to the side Bucky tugs him to the bed, pushing him onto the mattress and crawling over him. His hands roam everywhere, unable to stop, even as he sheds his clothes hurriedly. “Je _sus_. Lord Almighty in _Heaven_ , Steve.”

Steve is shy but not self-conscious. Looking up at Bucky like that, though…he’s gonna need to say a thousand Hail Marys just for the thoughts alone. Steve bites his lip, squirming a little. “You done blaspheming yet, Buck?”

Bucky lifts up a little, palms flat on the mattress on either side of Steve’s head once his shorts are finally tossed off to the side and his dick is hanging between them. He doesn't miss how Steve's eyes flick down to it before back up. “Want me to talk about the devil like that, then? ‘Cause I swear he’s the one who sent you to me, Stevie. You’re sin right in the goddamn flesh. Carved outta his rib, ‘steada from Adam’s.”

Steve laughs weakly. “Buck, you ain’t ever been one to resist temptation.”

He’s not wrong. Bucky was a poor excuse for an Irish-Catholic growing up; he focused more on the drinking rather than the redemption. It still makes his stomach knot in a way that he doesn’t like, which just goes to show how deep Catholic-instilled fear runs. “How could I?” he asks. “It was everywhere: in my bed, in my kitchen. Hardest temptation to fight was right in front of my face my whole miserable life. Ain’t no wonder I turned out to be a sinner.”

It sobers the mood quickly; Steve looks up at Bucky with those big blue eyes and they’re as round as a damn Disney character’s, wide oceans below a brow furrowed in typical Steve Rogers sadness.

He cups Bucky’s cheek. “To think that I almost didn’t get to have you again.”

Goddamn him. Bucky blinks away his tears and says, in a voice much rougher than he’d like, “Well, you’re stuck with me now. Refund policy was oh, say, seventy years ago.”

It coaxes a laugh from Steve and Bucky swears his heart grows in his chest. He loves his fella’s laugh more than anything: Steve’s always had the kind that makes you want to laugh just by hearing it. Nothing has changed, except maybe the laughs are a little bigger, but also fewer in between. Unfettered happiness is often a luxury between them.

Steve lifts up to bring their mouths together, soft and sweet like he likes. Just a kiss. A promise. _Ain’t never been good with words_ Bucky can practically hear him thinking.

When he pulls away he hooks Bucky’s hair behind his ear, runs a calloused thumb along the hinge of Bucky’s jaw. His eyes are the shallow waters of the Caribbean and unwavering in their attention. “Wouldn’t return you for the world, sweetheart. Even when we were so poor we were about to get evicted I still wouldn't have traded you for a million bucks.”

“Stevie, baby,” Bucky says, raw. His throat closes up, feels like there’s a lump shoved down in there. He wants to say more but the words won’t come up without blubbering, so instead he swallows hard and adds, “That’s a fool move. I ain’t worth no million bucks.”

“You’re right,” Steve says, nodding that definitive way like he’s made up his mind. The little smirk at the corner of his mouth hooks right in Bucky’s belly, yanking him along like he’s on a fishing line. “You’re priceless is what you are.”

Bucky has to kiss him breathless then. _Has_ to.

“You stupid punk,” he says when he feels the slick of a single tear race down his cheek. “I thought you came here to seduce me. ‘Stead you’re makin’ me cry.”

Steve brushes the tear away. Smiles at him soft and sweet. He doesn’t say anything. Despite several of his speeches being in history books and recited by twelve-year-olds for a grade, Steve has always been a man of few words. One glare alone could put Bucky in the doghouse; a smile could end a weeks-long tiff. Adding more height and bulk to Steve didn't make him a more imposing figure: he always was. The world just didn't see it ’til he fit their mold. Well, fuck ‘em.

“If you think I bought these fancy drawers and ain’t gonna try to get your dick in me then you ain’t got a lick of sense in your head,” teases Steve. “Lord above, Buck. Can’t I just express my love for my fella before letting him have his surprise?”

Bucky smirks. “Far be it from me to stop you.” His hands inch under, warm skin and cool metal, to the gap at the center of Steve’s ass. His nails run lightly over the lace, brush across the silk. Holy hell. Steve’s ass is a gem in itself, but wrapped in Tiffany-blue silk already straining over his cock, he’s nothing less than the eighth wonder of the world.

Bucky drops a kiss to Steve’s mouth, then his brow, asks, “Did you get yourself ready?”

Steve reaches up to stroke down the back of Bucky’s neck. Tugs him in for a kiss that lingers like a slow burn, like the pain that sets in after the shock wears off. “Nah,” he says. “I know how much you like watching me. Figured it’d look even better with this convenient peephole.”

Dizziness accompanies the aggressive rush of arousal that races through Bucky’s body. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me,” Bucky swears, and Steve laughs. “Shaddup. Hell, Steve, if you wanted to kill me all you had to do was say so.”

“I’m just trying to spoil you,” Steve says, innocent. His lips shape into an exaggerated pout that makes him look even more sinful than he already does. When he bats his lashes Bucky’s about ready to go and dig a grave for himself ‘cause Steve is about to put him in it. “You’ve been so good for me, Buck. You know how much I love you.”

“I do,” agrees Bucky. He looks at his fella below him, all dressed up in silk and lace, just for him. So pretty a picture that Steve’s fancy artists would’ve wept to see it. His heart knots, soars.

Love used to come easy to him: his family; Steve’s ma; even some of the gals that he’d gone a little steady with. Now it’s a little more reticent, like a shy cat hiding behind the furniture. It wants to come out but it’s scared. Steve is the only one who gets to see it, gets to hear it in his voice and feel it in the gentle touch of his hands.

“Turn over,” he says, soft. Steve gives him one last hooded glance before flipping onto his hands and knees, spacing his knees wide and tilting his ass up. Bucky damn near chokes.

“Oh, baby,” says Bucky, reverent. The lace presses into Steve’s milky skin and Bucky presses his fingers right alongside it, letting his nails catch on the little scallops of fabric. He squeezes Steve’s firm cheeks, gives them a little slap because he knows how much Steve likes it. Steve lets out a tiny squeal of surprise and Bucky is sure that his heart is gonna beat out of his chest. “Baby. Oh, baby boy, look at _you_.”

“Whatcha gonna do, Buck?” asks Steve, deep and throaty. A little scratchy already. Bucky runs his fingers down to cup Steve’s balls, hefting their weight in his palm, sliding the silk between the crease. Steve grunts, arches back, says, “Huh? Got myself all pretty for you, babe. How you gonna unwrap your present?”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Bucky breathes. He has to squeeze the base of his cock tight enough to hurt to keep from blowing his load too damn early. With his other hand he pushes the panties aside just slightly, just enough to free one of Steve’s balls, running the back of his finger up towards Steve’s perineum and letting Steve shiver with it. He eases it back in, says, “The fuckin’ _mouth_ on you, Steve. Someone oughta do something about that.”

As he says it he’s reaching for the nightstand, the little bottle of flip-cap lube that they keep stored in the drawer. He drops it next to Steve’s right hand and leans back on his knees.

Steve takes it and scoots forward, enough that he can brace his weight with his left hand against the headboard. He looks back, one side of his mouth curled up in a lopsided smile. “Was thinking that maybe you should do something about it,” he says, casual, as he flips open the lube and slicks his fingers.

Bucky takes himself in hand, stroking lazily as Steve positions himself, wriggling around for a few moments to get comfortable. Christ. Bucky lets his eyes wander up and down Steve’s body, from the impressive span of his shoulders, the muscles bunched up beneath them, how his skin is flushed pale pink, even here. His tiny fucking waist, the swell of his ass and the delicate straps of baby-blue fabric crossing it. The firm muscles of his thighs that flex as he tilts his ass back. Steve is goddamn impossible, is what he is. An anatomical improbability.

“Maybe,” Bucky drawls. “Play your cards right.”

Steve teases his hole, swirling slick passes of his finger, then presses his index finger in, slow. Makes a show of it, groaning in his throat, as his finger sinks deeper, muscle stretching, sucking it in, then puckering out when Steve angles his finger halfway out and pushes it back in. “Mm, Bucky,” he says, as husked and seductive as Bucky’s ever heard, “can’t wait to get your big dick in me. Gonna give it to me nice and hard?”

“You little slut,” Bucky says affectionately. It makes Steve laugh. “You bet that sweet, tight little ass of yours that I’m gonna fuck it into next week.”

“What if I want it fucked into next month?”

“Then you just keep on teasing yourself like that. Gettin’ me all worked up.”

“Not like it’s hard,” Steve snarks, adding another finger. A grunt, big knuckles disappearing. “Think with your dick ‘stead of your brain half the time.”

“Ain’t my fault my fella’s hot as hell.”

“Uh-huh.” Steve grunts, thigh twitching. His next push in must hit the right spot because he tenses and moans, unselfconscious.

In Bucky’s hand his cock drools a little pre-come. “Right there?” he asks.

Steve whimpers, nods. The thrusts of his fingers gets rougher, quicker, and he adds a third, pushing his hips forward as his hole stretches. “One more, baby,” Bucky says, squeezing tight around the head of his cock, lips parting and head tipping back. “C’mon, you can do it. One more finger for me.”

Steve gasps, head dipping down. He doesn’t even bother to reach for the lube as he slips his fingers out until just the tips are in and wriggles his pinky in alongside. His back momentarily bows, goes taut; then he relaxes, fingers slipping in to the first knuckle, the second. He groans.

Bucky could come right now, just by watching this. Steve’s whimpers turn into moans, then little ragged gasps of Bucky’s name. Bucky squeezes the base of his cock and reaches for the lube. Steve looks back as he slicks himself up, and his pupils are blown, cheeks flushed high.

“I’ve got you,” Bucky soothes, kneeling just behind Steve. He runs his hands over quivering, sweat-damp flanks, over silk and lace. His flesh hand slips under, curves lower, and he isn’t surprised to find the silk completely soaked here, Steve’s cock heavy and straining. He gently massages over the length, rubs the side of his thumb over the head, the silk getting slicker as he goes. “Oh, baby, you’re so wet for me. Soaked right through these sweet little panties, dripping wetter’n a goddamn pussy.”

“Bucky,” says Steve, strained and burning red.

“Yeah, honey,” Bucky says, inching the waistband down to let Steve’s cock slip free, heavy and pulsing where Bucky cradles it in his hand, slick and sticky and drooling even more when Bucky pulses his fingers along its length. “Baby doll. _Yeah_.” There ain’t no better feeling than his fella’s dick in his hand. Bucky will go to his grave swearing it.

“Buck,” Steve says again. He trembles, and, bless his heart, is still slowly working those four fingers inside himself, though now his movements have grown jerky and stilted, thumb twitching over his skin.

“Slide your fingers out,” says Bucky, “yeah, sweetheart. So good. Darling. Look at that pretty asshole begging to be filled. C’mon, scoot down the bed with me.”

He gets Steve positioned comfortably on all fours. As he says it he spreads Steve’s cheeks, angles him up. Steve is blushing furiously, trying to hide his face. Bucky’s fingers slide easily in. All it takes is one crook to find that smooth nub that has Steve crying out brokenly and pushing back.

“Please,” he says. Half a sob. “Bucky, I need—oh god—”

“What do you need?” Bucky strokes careful fingertips over Steve’s prostate, nudging with just a little pressure. In his hand Steve’s dick jerks hard, pre-come drooling down Bucky’s fingers. He could make Steve go off like this, easy. Has done it before; and the memory curls the corners of Bucky’s mouth, little Stevie shaking under him and spitting out mewling little gasps.

“Fuck me,” Steve gets out. He backs up onto Bucky’s fingers, forcing them deeper, and wriggles his hips, making his ass bounce enticingly. For a second Bucky wonders if he could get away with just this, Steve screwing himself on Bucky’s fingers until he comes. Steve whines, frustrated, and grips the sheets hard enough to pull a corner of the fitted sheet off the mattress. “Come on, stick it _in_ me.”

“Want this dick?” Bucky asks, knowing full well how much of a line it is. Sliding his fingers out, he presses against the firm swell of Steve’s ass, letting the drooling head of his cock smear glistening over Steve’s pale skin. He bites his lip, stops the urge to hump forward, over and over. He’s not the hormone-ridden teenager he once was. He has _self-control_ now. Most of the time.

“Jesus, Buck. Drop the porn star act already,” Steve grouses. It makes Bucky well and truly smile; Steve gets extra grumpy when he’s frustrated, which means that Bucky has done his job more than admirably.

“Nuh-uh,” replies Bucky. He steadies Steve with both hands on his flanks. “Not ’til you ask me nice’n pretty, little troublemaker.”

Steve whines. “Already did.”

“You asked me to fuck you. Didn’t even bother to say _please,_ Steve. What the hell would your ma say?”

Steve mutters something that sounds like Gaelic, short bursts of words in his mother tongue. Bucky’s always loved it; he has some fogged memories of asking Sarah to teach him and failing miserably at it. He’d given up early on, content to watch her and Steve fall into it, easy as anything.

In English Steve says, “Please don’t bring up my ma when your dick is literally rubbing all over my ass.”

Bucky barks out a laugh. Jeez, both their mas would have had heart attacks if they knew what their sons got up to on their own time. His fingers rub smooth circles on Steve’s skin. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. After all, you did get all dolled up for me without even my askin’, and you opened yourself up so nicely—”

“ _James Buchanan—_ ”

Laughing again, Bucky twists to grab the lube, popping the cap open with his thumb and drizzling it into his flesh hand. As he slicks himself up he says, “You know how much it turns me on when you call me James. Throw in that middle name and goddamn, I’m all yours.”

“Shut the hell up,” Steve says, but he’s laughing as well, shaking his head. “Christ, just get on with it and fuck me already so I don’t have to deal with your stupid mouth no more.”

Grasping himself just below the head Bucky scoots forward, rubbing the slick head of his dick up and down the divide of Steve’s ass. “Now that ain't nice,” he says, sucking in a breath at the way Steve’s hole clenches around nothing as Bucky’s dick brushes over it again. “What did I tell you about asking nice?”

“Come on, _James_ ,” Steve says pointedly, looking back and raising an eyebrow. And damn, if that ain’t a sight, Steve’s pretty sweetheart ass and his even prettier face. He wriggles his hips a little and adds, “Please fuck me?”

Bucky lines up and pushes in, letting out a little groan as he watches his dick start to sink into Steve’s body, the crease of his ass slick with lube and Bucky’s pre-come. “That’s better,” he groans. It’s slow, Steve tightening around him, hot-wet around Bucky’s dick. “Jesus Christ, baby. Fuck. Look at you. I can just slide right in.”

“You like that, Buck?” Steve asks. He’s pink everywhere, from the swell of his ass to the span of his shoulders. He peeks over his shoulder again, mouth open and panting, and Bucky’s pleased to see that his cheeks are still that cute shade of pink. Bucky is _so_ glad his fella is a full-body blusher.

“You know I do.” Bucky rocks his hips experimentally, sinking deeper. “Little slut.”

Steve groans, fingers kneading the sheets. Bucky knows—Lord in Heaven, he knows.

“My little slut,” he adds in a quiet murmur, getting another low groan in response. His flesh fingers dance along the soft skin of Steve’s sides and curl around the vulnerable nape of Steve’s neck. Under the pressure Steve goes boneless, dropping his head slightly and rumbling out something that could be a purr. “Oh baby. God, you feel good.”  
  
“So—so do you,” Steve gasps. He pushes back as Bucky withdraws, chasing the fullness. Another whine. It doesn’t take someone who knows Steve as well as Bucky does to see that he needs more; he’s trembling with it, tiny vibrations that ripple in waves, and Bucky says, “Do you need more?”

“Yes, god, _yes_.”

“Need me to give it to you good’n hard? Make you take it?”

“ _Fucking_ —” Steve growls in frustration, working his hips back in a desperate attempt to get Bucky to move faster, screw him the way he wants. Never has Steve been a patient man. It excites and exasperates Bucky equally; it’s fun to rile him up, get him to spitting and yowling like a tomcat, but it’s also tiring. If Steve doesn’t get his way in his specific timeframe, well, pal, you’re in for a rough damn time.

And, sure enough, right on cue: “Bucky, I swear to _Christ_ , you don’t screw me into this mattress in the next sixty seconds I’m gonna make you rub this one out in your own, you sonofabitch.”

It’s sweeter than any Mass prayer. This is the Steve that used to boss Bucky up and down their tiny tenement apartment, never shy about his needs or wants. This Steve is who Bucky fell in love with, all stubbornness and self-righteousness and hair-trigger temper. Who Bucky fell to his knees for at the drop of a hat. Who Bucky picked up that godforsaken shield for.

Bucky laughs, says, “Well, since you asked for it.” He pulls out, just the head of his cock squeezed by Steve’s ass, and fucks in, their skin slapping sharply together. Steve cries out and Bucky grunts, hands wrapping around Steve’s tiny waist.

“That what you needed, huh?” Bucky coos, setting up a steady piston of his hips. “Just needed me deep in you, makin’ you feel so good.”

Steve moans, and if Bucky were a betting man he’d bet that Steve’s eyes are already rolling into the back of his head. There’s no mistaking that moan, wanton and shameless, Steve’s triceps trembling to keep him up.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, toying with the hem of Steve’s panties, “oh, you just needed this. You’re so good, so fuckin’ good for me, baby boy.” He moans, squeezing Steve’s hips, rocking in to the root of his cock and closing his eyes at the tight-wet squeeze of Steve’s body. “Oh, darling. _Sweetheart_.”

“More,” gasps Steve, like the bed isn't already shaking with it, like he isn’t already shaking with it, unbelievably beautiful tremors and the ripple of skin as Bucky’s hips meet his ass, over and over.

Bucky’s left hand skates up Steve’s back, clamping down over the nape of his neck and forcing him to his elbows. Steve groans as his face is shoved into the mattress, ass arched high in the air. “Harder,” he begs, sucking in a deep breath as he turns his head to the side. “Please, Buck.”

“Shh,” Bucky soothes. He keeps the roll of his hips steady, not increasing or decreasing. Steve begins to squirm impatiently, stopping when Bucky squeezes his hip tight in warning. “I got you. My sweet baby, I got you. Don’t worry.”

Steve’s whole body jerks when Bucky wraps his fingers around his cock.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” says Bucky. He moves the loose circle of his fist slowly, tracing the throbbing vein with the pad of his thumb. Steve is so slick, so hot. He must be aching, skin of his dick pulled tight, foreskin back to expose the red hue of the swollen head. Bucky takes his hand away, quiets Steve’s hoarse sob. “Look at me, Stevie.”

Bleary eyes open, and Bucky isn’t surprised to find Steve’s long lashes slightly clumped together. His baby can be so sensitive when he gets like this. Bucky makes sure that Steve’s eyes are focused on him when he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking two in, then three, chasing the salt taste of Steve off his skin, letting his mouth fill with saliva in a heady rush.

Steve’s eyes widen, then squeeze shut, mouth opening in a desperate moan as his left hand clenches hard into the sheets and tugs. Around Bucky’s cock he trembles, tightens, and Bucky’s name is a long, drawn out thing, an _oh, god, yes_.

“Taste so good,” Bucky says, heated. His tongue runs over his lips even though Steve isn’t looking, because it’s _true_. He buries his cock deep, gyrating his hips, and buries his hand in Steve’s hair, tugging. His breath hitches as he says, “Could suck your cock all day, swallow every load you gave me ’til I couldn’t no more.”

He straightens, gripping Steve’s cheek before slapping it, hard. “And you know what?” he says as Steve squirms and cries out. “I’d beg for more. Maybe ask you to come on my face, though I can’t beg as pretty as you can. And one a these days,” Bucky continues, so caught up in the slick slapping of skin, in Steve’s deep _uh uh_ noises that he can’t stop running his trap, “maybe I’ll come all over _your_ pretty face and take a picture. How does that sound, Stevie?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve gasps. He meets Bucky’s thrusts frantically, fucking himself on Bucky’s cock. Without a hand on his neck to hold him down Steve struggles to his hands, muscles flexing as he resettles his balance and reaches back to grab his ass, pulling himself wider. “Fuck, yes, baby, I’ll do it, I’ll do _anything_.”

“Jesus,” Bucky moans, pressing his forehead to the damp, hot, undulating space between Steve’s shoulder blades. “ _Oh_. How you make me _want_ , sweetheart. Been around the goddamn world and back and all’s I want is you. Never wanted nobody else. Don’t think I got it in me to even try.”

And how could he, with someone like Steve? God knows that Steve can’t see it half the time, but he’s always been so radiant, shone so _bright_ even with a gnarled back and a narrow, asthmatic chest. It ain’t the serum, or the costume, or any of those gimmicks: a long time ago, in a past that seems just like yesterday, Bucky reached into his chest, carved out his heart, and laid it out for Steve to take.

“Oh,” Steve is groaning, “oh, _Buck_ , lemme up, c’mon.”

They flip, too far gone to be graceful and too far gone to be self-conscious about the slippery slide of their limbs and the hasty way that Steve guides Bucky back into him, missing his hole on the first two tries and growling his frustration. It stokes the fire in Bucky’s chest, awakens that snarling, possessive monster that slumbers, dormant, on his heart.

On the third try Steve sinks down, left hand spread on Bucky’s chest, back arched. Bucky wants to rip those panties off of Steve’s heavy thighs, wants to stuff them, soaked in their sweat and pre-come, into Steve’s mouth. He wants to make Steve scream his release around them. He wants, wants, _wants_.

It’s dizzying, suffocating. Steve rides him with selfish determination, mouth open in a scintillating O; he takes the way that Bucky wants, and Bucky lets him, lets Steve use his body, his cock. Bucky’s hands grip Steve’s hips, urge him on. I love you, god, you’re so beautiful.

Steve stutters out a moan, abdomen flexing when his rhythm stutters. “I love you,” he says, eyes opening, cornflower blue darkened with lust. They pierce Bucky’s skin. Beneath them the bed creaks; the sheets rustle and whisper against them. Steve rises up, a hand going to his own hair when he plants his knees, rides Bucky hard enough to have them both breathing like racehorses.

Had Bucky said that out loud? His right hand grips Steve’s cock, loose fist curling around the rigid length of him. Pre-come slides down Bucky’s fingers, down to his wrist. He’s so close, Bucky can tell. He just needs—fuck, you just need me. Like I need you. Like I’m always gonna need you, Stevie baby, ‘cause I ain’t nothin’ without you. Just blank space. Just a shadow cast on the ground.

“Bucky,” says Steve. His breath comes out a sob, and he bends, grips Bucky’s hair hard enough to have him wincing. Their lips slant together, messy and uncoordinated. Less a kiss and more of an urge, an overwhelming need to be close, to taste each other’s saliva, the undertone of Steve’s intimate flesh and Bucky’s raw desire.

“I love you,” breathes Bucky. He grips Steve’s hair just as hard, pushes his hips up against Steve’s downward thrusts. It aches in his thighs, in his groin. “I _love you_ —”

Steve comes with a sharp cry, grinding his hips down and shooting off over Bucky’s fist and chest. It shakes his whole body, shakes his arms and legs and the very core of him, clenching erratically around Bucky’s cock until Bucky, too, is coming, moaning Steve’s name, jerking up into him and filling him.

This moment…Steve’s sex-scent in his nostrils, mingled with his own, the warm splatter of semen between them, it’s like coming home. Bucky swears. It is coming home and locking the doors, letting yourself bask in the knowledge that this is yours.

He kisses the crown of Steve’s head, then tilts his chin up with his fingers at the hinge of Steve’s jaw, guiding him into a kiss that is the ebb and flow of the storm at sea that was their passion. Steve kisses back, lazy with indulgent swipes of his tongue deep in Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky runs his metal hand down Steve’s back, registering the rise of gooseflesh in its wake. It stops at the lacy hem of Steve’s panties, then to where they’re still join. Steve’s rim is hot and swollen, slick with lube and come. Bucky yearns to slip a finger inside, work Steve open until they both got hard again.

Instead Steve squirms, breathing out a laugh as he raises himself up with his hand on Bucky’s chest, just above the mess of his come. His hair is wild, and he looks younger. That’s what love is, Bucky thinks. Youth.

“As much as I’d love to go again,” says Steve, “if we’re gonna have a round two I wanna get out of these underwear so you don’t ruin them like I know you’re itching to.”

“Who, me?” Bucky feigns surprise.

Steve blinks, not buying any of it. So Bucky grins, kissing Steve’s chin, jaw, nose, lips. He lingers there, licking in tiny brushes of his tongue. “You know I wanna wreck these like I wanna wreck you.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but it’s all for show, ‘cause he’s already getting red again. “Yeah, yeah. Stop licking my face.”

Bucky laves his tongue broad across Steve’s cheek. What he’s thinking is, I need to taste you. Always, _forever_. I can’t forget this.

What he does is slap Steve’s ass, once, and stare lewdly as Steve carefully gets up and peels the panties down his legs. When he turns, Bucky eyes the slow white leak of come down Steve’s thigh.

Steve turns around and Bucky boldly holds his gaze. He keeps holding it as Steve crawls back onto the bed and on top of Bucky, blocking his body in. He stares, then traces Bucky’s cheek with the pad of his thumb.

He says, “I hope you liked it.”

Bucky wants to say something witty in reply, snark back like he always does, but he recognizes this moment for what it is. He wraps himself up in it, its seriousness, and says, “I like anything you do.”

And, soft, “Thank you.”

Steve bites his lip. Hesitates, then picks up the panties from the floor. Bucky follows his movements predatorily, doesn’t ask. Steve hesitates only for a second before laying the silk across Bucky’s mouth. Then he kisses him.

Bucky closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is [here](https://endofadream.tumblr.com) and instagram is [here](https://instagram.com/wintersoldiered), if you’re into that sort of thing! reviews are so amazing because i love hearing and replying to all of you!


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